


You Never Forget Your First

by MarchnoGirl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Language, First Time, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Misunderstandings, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Alternating, Pining, Prom, Virgin Draco Malfoy, Virgin Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:27:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23787820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarchnoGirl/pseuds/MarchnoGirl
Summary: The war is over, they’re all back at Hogwarts for their eighth year, and Harry’s determined to lose his virginity.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 32
Kudos: 392





	You Never Forget Your First

**Author's Note:**

  * For [milkandhoney](https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkandhoney/gifts).



> A gift for my BB's bday (I'm so late it's embarrassing, but ssssh, let's pretend I'm not xD!). BB, you're one of the absolute first people I've ever talked to when I entered the Drarry fandom and then we never stopped.  
> Now, a year and a half later, I couldn't even _imagine_ to write something and not talking about it with you; I see things and think 'she would like this' and send it to you; I read a fic and think 'I have to ask her if she liked it'. You're such an important part of my fandom experience (and life!!!) and I'm so sorry that I couldn't write you something bigger, but! Here it is, I hope it will bring you a smile.❤️
> 
> Thanks to my sweet sweet [onereader](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onereader) for the beta work!

‘This is the year I lose my virginity’ is as good a way as any other to start a new school year.

Ron snorts when Harry says it; Hermione rolls her eyes but wears a fond smile.

They started the so-called Eighth Year at Hogwarts, and they’re all in their old houses, their old dorms, their usual roommates. Dean, Neville and Seamus have an ongoing bet with Ron about Harry’s virginity—Dean and Seamus think Harry won’t be able to separate feelings from sex and will end up waiting for the ‘ _right guy’._ Ron and Neville, on the other hand, are convinced Harry won’t even be able to step foot into the Great Hall without hoards of fans _begging_ him to have sex, ending up in Harry losing his virginity within their first week of school.

Little do they know that by the end of the school year, Harry will be walking back to his dormitory dreading the moment he’ll have to reveal his friends he lost his virginity to a Slytherin.

***

“Ooh, look who’s back, our newly just-turned-man! How was it? I want every detail.” Dean whistles when Harry walks through the door of their dormitory, head bowed in embarrassment.

“I’d rather not, thank you very much,” Ron says with a disgusted face. A second later a shit-eating grin appears on his face. “I do want to know the name of the fella who deflowered you, though.”

Harry looks at the eager faces of his friends—Hermione is there too, she must have spent the night with Ron. Perfect. Just perfect.

“Err, I—” Harry starts when a red-haired head pops in through the door.

“May I?” Ginny chirps, softly padding into the room, then sitting onto Dean’s bed. “What are we talking about?”

“Harry’s deflowerment,” Neville announces gleefully.

Everyone’s eyes are on Harry now, and he feels restless. How iss he supposed to tell them the truth?

“So…” Harry clears his throat. Fidgets with the hem of his shirt. A rumpled, extremely rumpled shirt. Unfortunately, Hermione notices.

“That’s a damaged shirt. Wow, the sex must have been _good_.” She snorts and winks at Harry. Damn it.

“Yeah, well, it was…” Harry stops again. He really doesn’t know where to start. “There’s a problem.”

He decides it’s best to start from the worst part.

“I don’t actually remember who I slept with.”

***

_**The previous night** _

_“Tonight is my night,” Harry whispered into his glass of orange punch, eyes glued to the dance floor._

_“Mate, you’ve been saying it all year long,” Ron told him, patting him on the shoulder. “Just face it: it’s the end of the year and you haven’t lost your virginity. It’s not a big deal, you’ll find someone after Hogwarts.”_

_“Yeah, that’s easy for you to say. You have Hermione. I’m the Chosen One, people either want to fuck the hell out of me or they’re scared to even touch me. I don’t want someone who worships my hero-ness.”_

_“Oh, we know that,” Hermione piped in with a big smile. That night she pulled her hair into a neat and sparkly bun, just like four years ago at the Yule Ball. She was beautiful._

_“You want someone like_ Draco Malfoy _,” she continued. And dammit, Harry could have sworn she was a bit less beautiful now. “A snarky, arrogant, mean guy who would die before worshipping you, huh?”_

_Harry drew in a sharp breath. That was the truth. Why did Hermione always know everything?_

_“Really, though,” Ron said and his serious tone made Harry look into his eyes. “Why don’t you just… you know. Ask him out, or something?”_

_Harry almost shouted before remembering where they were and who could have heard them. He lowered his voice into a whisper, instead. “You want me to ask Draco Malfoy out? Here. At the first prom Hogwarts has ever had?”_

_Hermione snorted as Ron blinked. “Look, I’m not saying I approve of it. Malfoy’s nasty and all that, but… this year was different, wasn’t it? You two get on well. I can see it happening. You certainly look happier when he’s around.”_

_Harry felt his face burn at Ron’s words. He was right, of course he was. Their Eighth Year had started with a reluctant hand-shake between Harry and Malfoy, and had ended up with them calling each other by their first names and preparing for their N.E.W.T.s together._

_It used to astonish Harry how easy it had been to talk with Draco, to become friends with him. Now it just felt normal. It was safe, warm, happy. And that was exactly why he couldn’t date Draco, let alone lose his virginity to him._

_Hermione cleared her throat and Harry realised he’d been staring into his punch without saying a word for longer than normal. He sighed. “I… Draco, he—I can’t. I need to have fun in my life.”_

_Ron furrowed his eyebrows and Harry huffed lightly. “For the first eleven years of my life, I lived like a pariah. I had no friends, no family, no love. Then I came to Hogwarts and… well, you know. Voldemort and all that. I need—_ I need _—to have fun, to… to fuck around! I need to lose my virginity!”_

_“Okay,” Hermione said and that was all it took. Ron smiled briefly, and nodded at Harry. Harry didn’t know how it had happened, but his best friends,_ actual _best friends, understood him now even when Harry himself had issues understanding himself. Thinking about it, it was probably thanks to Hermione._

_“Okay,” Harry repeated. He looked at the dance floor again._

_When Minerva had told them she planned to organise a prom for the senior years, they’d been sceptical. It was only when the pressure of the N.E.W.T.s had started kicking in that they’d understood._

_The prom, thinking about who to invite, how to dress, what to buy for it—it all helped them to relieve the pressure. Harry had been excited at the idea of living like a normal student, for a change._

_Harry had asked Luna to go with him; she was one of his best friends now too, and she wouldn’t have minded him disappearing to go sleep with some random guys. Yes, Harry was still determined to lose his virginity tonight, he only needed the right boost. Turned out, Seamus had been able to sneak in the finest wizarding whisky from his father’s cellar—even better than Liquid Luck._

_From a certain point of the party, though, Harry’s memories started to blur. He remembered throwing himself into the crowd, dancing, laughing, hitting on some blokes, ending up with either ‘but you’re a hero! I can’t, I don’t deserve you!’ or a ‘well, well, our_ hero _at my mercy? be my guest’ and Harry had never had to run faster in his life._

_In the end, someone, a nice guy, flirted back. He didn’t treat Harry like anything other than a normal Hogwarts student. Harry was ecstatic, he remembered that._

_The guy said something about going back to his dormitory—he knew a way to sneak Harry in without others noticing. Harry agreed, heart racing madly, pumping in his ear, throat, stomach._

_When they finally reached the guy’s bed, they drew the curtain closed and Harry hoped the other guy remembered to cast a silencing charm because he wasn’t in the right condition to do it himself. There had been fumbling, skin on skin and laughter, oh god the laughter._

_It was the most beautiful sound Harry had ever heard and he felt drunk, but not just from alcohol. They had sex and Harry had never felt anything so good, so remotely intense as being filled up with heat and passion. A passion so strong it took Harry’s breath away._

_It was painful at first, there was no denying it, even if the memory was fuzzy. But Harry remembered losing himself into the reassuring voice of this guy who kept muttering praises to Harry, kept peppering kisses on his face like he knew what Harry needed, like he could read into his very soul._

_Harry came then and it was sudden, unexpected. He didn’t even remember touching himself, and the guy laughed— intoxicating Harry again. He laughed, warm, soft; stilled and spilled hot inside of Harry. That was new too, unexpected again, unexpected how good it felt._

_The morning after Harry woke with a start, nausea crawling at his stomach—he jumped out of the bed, running for the bathroom. Except the bathroom wasn’t where it was supposed to be, and the beds weren’t where they usually were… It was all confused and blurred and Harry’s heart was racing madly._

_Then his mind cleared, and without turning back, Harry ran for the door. He needed to reach the Gryffindor’s dorms, he knew that was exactly what he_ had _to do right then._

_He only registered in passing that he was walking the damp dungeons of Hogwarts and the door he had just stepped out of was the Slytherins’._

***

Everyone speaks at once.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“How’s that even possible?”

“Oh, c’mon, just tell us!”

“At least give us the juicy tidbits!”

Harry looks at his friends as a new wave of nausea hits him. “Give me a Sober Up potion, please, guys.”

Neville’s there first: he fishes a flask out of his nightstand and tosses it to Harry. Harry drinks it quickly, shudders at the way it makes his stomach vibrate for a couple of seconds, and then finally flops onto his bed with a deep sigh.

“Fuck,” he murmurs. Harry closes his eyes, bringing his hands to massage his temples. His head’s pounding. He spares just a vague thought about how that’s not how a Sobering Potion should make him feel.

“I honestly don’t remember, I don’t know what to say,” Harry starts. The room falls into a silence so deep Harry fears for a moment everyone’s disappeared. He opens his eyes: they’re all still there, expectant eyes and raised eyebrows.

“I know it was… beautiful. He was delicate and affectionate, and kept reassuring me and kissing me, but I can’t for the love of Merlin remember his face. I can’t… I don’t even remember me walking to the guy’s dorm or—” Harry burrows his face in his hands. His head continues to hurt like mad.

Hermione’s the first to speak again. “Harry, can’t you remember anything at all?”

“Yeah,” Harry muffles into his hands. “Just bits, fuzzy memories. Sensations, some thoughts, but I really can’t remember who the guy was.” He clears his throat, presses his fingers to his temples in a desperate attempt to make the pain go away. “I know his House, though.”

“Mmmh.” Hermione’s now sitting next to Harry, her wand is dancing around his head. “It looks like someone Confunded you.”

“Who cares!” Seamus exclaims suddenly. He’s so eager he’s sitting on the edge of his bed, body angled towards Harry. “Tell us about the House!”

Ron elbows him. “Idiot, Harry’s been hexed!”

“Shut up! You’re just sour because you lost the bet. While I’m still in. So, Harry, the House?” Seamus grins and the situation is so abnormal that Harry finds himself mirroring his same grin.

“It was a Slytherin.”

Ron’s eyes widen before he speaks. “I knew it! You fucked Malfoy!”

“Yes! You waited for the right guy! In your face, Ron. You owe me five Galleons. Neville too,” Seamus exults at the same time.

“I didn’t! I told you, I didn’t want to do it with him!” Harry’s now sitting upright on his bed, head still pulsing. “I-I think it wasn’t him… Can we know who Confunded me, ‘Mione?”

Hermione shakes her head. “No, Harry, but we can assume it was one of the Slytherins. Maybe the guy you went with did it himself.”

“That would be horrible,” Harry mutters. _And it wouldn’t be Draco, he wouldn’t do that,_ he thinks to himself. _He wouldn’t, right?_

Silence descends on them again when an idea forms in Harry’s mind. “What if I go back to the Slytherin dorms? I could retrace my steps, I think I’d recognise which room I left this morning and then… we’d have a clue at least?”

***

An hour later, Ron and Harry are sitting at the Gryffindor’s table for breakfast.

“What?!” Hermione’s eyes are bulging so much they look like ping-pong balls. The guys are all wearing either shocked or amused expressions.

“So, no one wins the bet? Tough luck,” Seamus comments, rolling his eyes. “You didn’t lose your virginity the first week back here—” he goes on. And dear Godric, how Harry would love for him to just. Stop. Talking. “—and you didn’t wait for the right guy.”

“Seriously, Harry. Zabini? Everyone knows he’s a self-righteous prick.”

Neville’s statement does nothing to reassure Harry, whose nerves are completely wrecked by now. Retracing Harry’s steps with Ron under the invisibility cloak brought them right in front of Zabini’s room.

“Even now that you know it, you can’t remember anything?” Ron inquiries, mouth stuffed with eggs.

“No,” is Harry’s disconsolate reply. He really can’t pinpoint any precise detail about that night.

With a deep sigh, Harry moves his gaze to the Slytherin’s table, immediately locating Draco. As if sensing Harry’s stare, Draco raises his head and his eyes bore into Harry’s.

Cold sweat forms at Harry’s temples: Draco’s eyes are filled with pure rage, like Harry hasn’t seen for a long time now.

_Fuck_.

* * *

Draco is sure he’s going to kill Blaise. Right there, in front of everyone. He’ll risk Azkaban; this time it’s for the right cause.

“For the thousandth time, I didn’t sleep with your precious Potter, Draco.”

The news had just leaked and it was all anyone was talking about. The Great Hall had only been so chatty only when… well, every damn time Harry did something spectacular like fighting a basilisk or being chosen as the _fourth_ Triwizard champion.

“When did it happen?” Draco gritted out, spitting every word with as much venom as he could muster.

He couldn’t fucking believe it.

“Never, for the love of Salazar, Draco! I would _never_.” Blaise looks seriously concerned about this.

Right at that moment Draco raises his gaze and meets Harry’s eyes. His beautiful, bright, green eyes and— _fuck him!_ Draco thinks as he sends a glare in Harry’s direction.

Had Draco thought there was something between him and Harry? Yes. And after yesterday, Draco was also pretty sure Harry was a Neanderthal without any manners, but this was sinking too low, even for him.

“They’re saying you fucked yesterday at the prom,” Pansy says, frowning. “It doesn’t make any sense,” she continues. “Because I’m pretty sure _we_ fucked yesterday night?” She gestures between Blaise and herself, and then glances at Draco.

“Honey, something’s missing.”

“Yesterday?” Draco asks, voice suddenly thin. His brain is trying to put together the pieces of the puzzles but they all look completely unrelated. “That’s… impossible.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Blaise snaps, dropping his fork to his plate. “Wait, what’s that face?”

“What—what face?” Draco’s eyes snap to his pumpkin juice. He can already feel his face heat up and he knows his skin doesn’t exactly go unnoticed when he blushes.

“You’re right, Blaise. He has his guilty face.” Pansy leans in as if to study Draco’s face better. “It’s like when you were trying to convince us you’re not gay saying you’re simply not straight. What’s up, Draco?”

Draco shakes his head because he can’t. Besides, he doesn’t know what’s happening, he’s so confused. But his friends are staring insistently at him. Draco sighs—there’s no point trying to hide it now.

“Yesterday night, during the prom, I…” Draco tails off, feeling the heat creeping down his neck. Damn it. “I flirted with Harry. And… you know, one thing lead to another. We…”

“You fucked!” Theo’s cheerful voice butts in and Draco raises an eyebrow to him. Since when was he eavesdropping the conversation?

“Good morning, Theo,” Draco replies dryly. “No, we didn’t…well, yes, um. We had... sexual intercourse, okay?”

“What, more than once? Way to go, buddy!” Theo raises his fist in front of Draco, ready to be bumped.

“Moron.” Draco sighs, dismissing Theo’s fist. “I don’t understand. Why is Harry saying he fucked with Blaise yesterday? We… it felt important while we…”

“You’re so cute, all embarrassed and cheesy.” And seriously, where had Theo come from?

Everyone’s looking with sympathetic faces at Draco, but he doesn’t buy it. Yes, it’s true Harry had fled out of Draco’s room this morning without saying a single word, but Draco had assumed he was embarrassed or at the very least just a giant tosser.

Oh, Merlin.

“He’s ashamed of me,” Draco stutters out, understanding now his friends’ pity. The realisation hurts more than when that hideous hippogriff almost ripped his arm away.

“He’s ashamed of me,” Draco repeats, realising with horror that tears are running down his cheeks.

“Oh, honey—” Pansy reaches out, her hands brushing Draco’s cheeks. Draco can’t stand it; he needs to get away before he makes a fool of himself.

He stands, collects his schoolbag and hurries towards the doors of the Great Hall, unconcerned by the tears damping his face and Greg’s steps behind him.

“Draco, wait!”

***

Things look to be getting worse by the minute at the Slytherins’ table. After Draco sends Harry that venomous glare, Harry sees him having a heated discussion with his friends until—wait, are those tears streaming down Draco’s face?

Fuck, Harry really did cross the line this time. Still, the details about the previous night are fuzzy and unclear and maybe he should go talk to Zabini, after all.

He stands up, taking a deep breath to steady himself. But just when he starts moving towards the Slytherin table, Draco springs up and marches towards the doors, Goyle in tow.

Harry stills, chewing on his bottom lip. Should he go after Draco? And tell him what? ‘ _I’m sorry if I fucked your best friend and can’t remember a thing because someone Confunded me’_ doesn’t sound quite right.

And then something clicks into Harry’s mind. But that can’t be, right? Draco would have never Confunded Harry when seeing him stepping out of Blaise’s room. Harry shakes his head, trying to clear it. It’s still throbbing from this morning—whoever hexed him didn’t certainly play nice.

“Harry, are you alright?” Hermione’s voice cuts through the fog of his thoughts. Harry turns, waving a hand.

“Sure, I was just, um. I’ll see you at Potions, yes?” Without turning around, Harry reaches the Slytherin table as all the students’ eyes turn to him.

“Zabini. I need to talk to you,” he says, looking determinedly into Zabini’s eyes.

Zabini looks uncertain for a moment but then he nods and stands to follow Harry out of the Great Hall. Whispers raise frantically as the two of them walk together, but Harry doesn’t care. He needs to know the truth.

As soon as they’re out of the Great Hall, Harry wrenches Zabini’s arm and leads him into the nearest classroom, still thankfully empty.

“Why the hell did you tell everybody, you tosser!” Harry yells. He can feel his magic prickling under his skin. It’s been so long since the last time he lost his temper like this and Harry almost feels more alive, almost gives in to the urge to unleash his magic.

Zabini’s eyes widen and he looks alarmed. “Look, Potter, I didn’t say anything to anyone. And why would have I, since I’m not the one you fucked, _clearly_.”

Harry’s hands curl into fists against his will. “Sure you are! I-I remember walking out of your room, or at least, I…” he trails off as he sees Zabini raising an eyebrow.

“Are you still drunk, Potter? I’m telling you we didn’t have sex! Do you seriously not remember? Or are you just being the biggest dick in history?”

“No, I’m not drunk! Zabini, for fucks sake, what are you talking about?”

“This is getting ridiculous, Potter. I didn’t think you’d sink this low. Are you so ashamed of Draco? Is that really it?”

Right. This really _is_ getting ridiculous. Harry is even more lost than before, if possible and his head still feels messy and crowded. What the hell is Zabini talking about?

Slowly, Harry starts talking again. “Draco? What does he… I, um. Someone Confunded me this morning,” he adds because he needs to rely on the little things he’s sure about.

Zabini’s mouth forms a small ‘o’ and he looks relieved, for whatever reason. “I see,” he says, scratching with a hand under his chin. “I really think you should go find Draco.”

“Why Draco, again? What the hell is going on, Zabini?”

“Just… listen to me, please,” Zabini says and there’s finality in his voice.

Harry’s so confused he can feel his thoughts painfully crossing his mind, zig-zagging around. When Zabini sighs and turns to go out of the classroom, Harry snaps out of his stupor.

He mutters under his breath a quick, “Whatever,” and finds himself in an empty corridor. Checking that no one is in sight, Harry fishes out the Marauder’s Map from his school bag and immediately spots Draco’s label on it.

Draco’s at the Black Lake and near him, there’s only another label: Gregory Goyle.

***

When Harry finally finds Draco and Goyle at the shore of the Black Lake they look like they’re having a fight and Harry’s not sure how to approach them.

He witnesses the scene from a few feet apart: Draco’s cheeks are bright red and the tendons in his throat are tight. He looks furious.

Just when Harry’s ready to call it off and go back from where he came and demand Zabini to just explain himself, Goyle spots him and raises a hand. “Potter! Oi, Potter!”

Draco’s head snaps to him and the tendons relax. His cheeks, though, look even redder. Every trace of hatred he’d displayed earlier in the Great Hall is gone.

Harry reaches them, a weird feeling twisting his guts. “Err, I can come back if you’re—”

“Actually, we’re done, right Greg?” This time Draco’s glare is all for Goyle. Goyle nods, lowers his eyes to the floor. He sets off for the castle, murmuring “I’m sorry” when he passes Harry.

Harry wrinkles his eyebrows and turns to him, watching him retreating. Why the hell was he apologising?

Draco clears his throat, effectively wrenching Harry away from his thoughts. Harry switches his attention to Draco, who looks uncharacteristically nervous. He’s munching on his cheeks, fidgeting with his hands and when he swallows, it’s loud and laboured, Adam’s apple bobbing.

It’s a hot, sunny day, and the heat is doing nothing to keep down Harry’s hormones which have decided to explode at the sight, sending highly inappropriate thoughts and visions to his brain about Draco’s throat.

“Why…” Draco starts, voice small. It’s so unlike him that Harry can’t think of anything to say, anything to do with this emotional version of Draco. “Do you like Zabini?”

“Oh, lord,” Harry grits out. “No! I don’t know why… we… well, it’s none of your business anyway!” And that’s just the truth, right? Because Draco’s not Harry’s boyfriend and Harry has no obligations towards him. Except Draco looks hurt now, and Harry’s heart clenches painfully.

“Look, the truth is that yes, tonight I spent the night at your dorms, but this morning someone—”

“Confunded you, I know,” Draco interrupts and now he’s biting on his lips so hard Harry fears they’re gonna break.

“Oh,” is all Harry can say when Draco’s words sink in. “How do you…?”

“It was Goyle. He didn’t do it with ill intentions, okay? A-and, well, you’re a moron, because you immediately jumped to the conclusion you slept with Blaise, so I’m wondering if that’s because you actually like him. Or, I don’t know, I just… Yesterday night at the prom, you see, I thought, you said—”

The rest of Draco’s words were lost. Harry’s mind finally clears and his head stops pounding so that now every thought is connected to the previous one and memories start flowing back to Harry.

Suddenly, he remembers everything. He remembers approaching Draco at the prom—Harry was tipsy, but it was just the right amount to give him the courage he needed.

They’d talked, flirted, and—oh, Merlin. Their first time had been so perfect, Draco opened him up so gently, whispering praises to Harry through it. When Draco had breached him... Harry remembers now. Harry had looked into his eyes, through the burning feeling, and had known right away: he had fallen in love with Draco.

The entire year had brought him to that moment. Studying with Draco, going to Hogsmeade to have a butterbeer together every Thursday night (Eighth Years privileges), the smiles they’d exchange every time their eyes met during lessons. Harry had fallen for Draco, and last night, when he was buried inside Harry, Harry had looked up and said ‘I love you’. And Draco had smiled, so warm and wide, and kissed Harry. ‘I love you too,’ he had murmured against Harry’s lips.

And now that everything is coming back to Harry, a sick feeling plummets to his stomach. Draco’s tears earlier, his anger…

“I’m sorry,” Harry rushes to say, interrupting Draco’s flow. “I don’t like Zabini.” He takes a deep breath, two, three. He can’t hold it back anymore. “I love you, Draco. I really do. And yesterday, it meant the world to me.”

Draco’s blinking rapidly, his breathing laboured. “Oh. Did the Confundus go away?”

Harry nods. “Goyle, you said?”

“You never change,” Draco says fondly, a smile spreading on his face. “You didn’t listen to a word I said, did you?”

Harry sticks his tongue out to Draco, feels his face heat up. “Well excuse me if the memories of last night distracted me.”

Draco’s cheeks turn even redder if that’s possible. “Idiot,” he murmurs. Then adds, “He really didn’t mean any harm. He saw you exiting my room and thought I had, err, kidnapped you or something. He’s not the most brilliant.”

Harry laughs, reaches a hand out grabbing Draco’s shirt and pulling him into his chest. “Fine, I don’t care. The only thing I care about right now is you.”

“Ugh, you’re so cheesy.” Draco rolls his eyes and fakes gagging—always such a drama queen.

“Ah! Seamus will be happy! He and Dean won the bet,” Harry says suddenly, snorting at the thought.

Draco crooks his head, his eyes wrinkled. “What?”

“Nothing,” Harry quickly amends, wrapping both arms around Draco’s waist. “Now, what about we make our first time only the first of many?”

Draco’s lips stretch into a smirk. “Dirty, dirty Potter. You’ll be the ruin of me.”

A bird is chirping somewhere in the trees, the water laps gently on the shore and Harry Potter has finally lost his virginity to the guy he loves.

All is well.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments to know what you think about it mean the world to me! You can also come find me on Tumblr, [@drarryruinedme7](https://drarryruinedme7.tumblr.com/). ❤️
> 
> **Disclaimer** : All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.


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